


The Kind of Grilled Cheese Sandwich That I’d Kill For

by Ottermidnight



Series: Our Infinite Lives & Possibilities AU [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the best butler, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Beginnings, Flirting, Grilled cheese sandwich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottermidnight/pseuds/Ottermidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark looked through the cupboard and the rest of the fridge. A half loaf. A little bit of smoked cheddar cheese and a little bit of parmesan cheese. A bag of mixed green vegetables. A half of white onion. One fourth of cornichon in a jam jar that Clark could not tell how old it was because the expire date wasn’t on the label anymore. These all he could find and all he had to work with. And above all, Clark had never made a grilled cheese sandwich before in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kind of Grilled Cheese Sandwich That I’d Kill For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@mxiiixvii](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40mxiiixvii).



> I wrote this fanfic as a gift to @mxiiixvii and I want to thank Tango for doing the beta reading. 
> 
> This is the first caféAU I've ever written in my life!  
> It might be a little bit different from other caféAUs you've read before.  
> I'm experimenting a new writing style and story narrative.
> 
> *Warning: English is not my first language so please tell me if you see anything error or misspelling and I will fix it.*
> 
> *I want to thank Tango for doing the beta reading.*

Clark was completely puzzled. He stared blankly at the brown dossier on the top of the wooden coffee table. “What’s this?” Asked Clark. He had no idea what could possibly be in the dossier that was given to him by the man he had only met last night before he closed his café and called it a day, but then a customer walked in. He would be a fool to turn the first customer of the day down.

 

The customer did not look at the menu before he made an order. He said he was famished and he just wanted any kind of sandwich that would take the shortest preparation time. Clark nodded and walked into the kitchen.

 

Clark thought about making Ham and cheese sandwich for his customer. All he would have to do would be slicing a tomato, toasting two pieces of bread and put the green, ham and cheese in between. This man was the first customer of the day and he had to impress him so he would come back to his café. He might also bring someone else with him and that would mean more customers.

 

Instead of finding a beautiful pack of fresh smoked ham in the fridge, Clark found three-week expired ham covered in various sizes peculiar blue-green spots which he could not tell what the  _ heck _ they were. Clark took one good minute to look up closely on the spoiled ham and realized this was not the time to act on the behalf of science or curiosity. He needed to make a sandwich.   

 

Clark looked through the cupboard and the rest of the fridge. A half loaf. A little bit of smoked cheddar cheese and a little bit of parmesan cheese. A bag of mixed green vegetables. A half of white onion. One fourth of cornichon in a jam jar that Clark could not tell how old it was because the expire date wasn’t on the label anymore. These all he could find and all he had to work with. And above all, Clark had never made a grilled cheese sandwich before in his life.

 

With a little help of Jamie Oliver’s video on Youtube and bit of information on this website and that website, the grilled cheese sandwich was done. Clark did not want to be ostentatious but his sandwich smelled fantastic and looked almost exactly the same as Jamie’s. It had the delicious perfectly golden brown shade. Sadly, he could not taste his masterpiece as it needed to be served to his customer who had been waiting for more than half an hour since he made an order.

 

“Why don’t you just open it and see for yourself, Mr. Kent.” Said the man sitting opposite Clark.

 

“R...Right.” Clark’s mind wandered back to another man. He must be staring at the dossier for quite a while as the man looked at him with half curious and half annoyed expression in his eyes for a few second before it disappeared at the time Clark lifted the dossier up.

 

The man had black hair just like his but he groomed properly; nothing like Clark’s bed-hair style. It made Clark feel mortified to realize that he had not combed his hair for two days. He had been caught up with his part-time, writing the weekend sports article for Daily Planet. Oddly, his part-time job had provided the money to cover up half of the red he had at the end of each month.

 

“How did you know my name?” Asked Clark. He could not help it. Sure, he must sound more or less like some character from the B-grade movies when he heard his own voice with the cliché line.

 

_ Clever, Clark. Your question is so smart. Damn it. _

 

“It’s simple. I went on the Facebook page of your Country Road Café last night which hasn’t been up to date and read about the place and the previous owner, not the current one.”

 

“Right. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised but I did anyway.”

 

“I know you brought this place with a good chunk of money from Sarah Janes November because the old lady needed money for her cancer treatment. Sadly, she passed away last month.“ By the way, Bruce said ‘ _ this place _ ’, he meant this run down rotten rat hole café. All of the water pipes were leaked or broken, one way or another. The paint and wallpapers turned mustard yellow and rusty brown. Every inch of this place needed to be fixed.

 

“How did you know all of that?” Clark wanted to ask ‘ _ Have you been stalking on me? _ ’, but it would sound too direct and pretentious to ask. Things started to get awkward, at least on Clark’s side. The man still held calm and confident posture under the white collar and the black well-tailored suit towards Clark like he owned the café, not Clark. __

 

“I always do my research before I approach my clients and potential business partner, Mr. Kent.”

 

“Just Clark, please. And you?”

 

“I’m Bruce. Bruce Wayne.” Bruce extended his hand for Clark to shake. Clark did not expect such a formal greeting gesture from Bruce and as the result of that, he let Bruce’s hand lingering in the air longer than it’s appropriate and polite.

 

“Well, it’s good to know you, Bruce.”

 

“The pleasure is mine.”

 

When Clark finally let go of Bruce’s hand, the awkward silence fell in between.

 

“Oh, right. The dossier.”

 

“Partnership Agreement?” “In the Country Road Café?”

 

“With a little brush here and there; and e-marketing, I’m sure this cafe could be a little hipster’s paradise on earth.”

 

“Listen, Clark. You have a good heart, Clark and despite that, you can make the best I’ve ever eaten grilled cheese sandwich that I’d kill for.”

 

“There is no need to rush into a decision. You have all the time you need. Read through the contract carefully and then let your mind settle down.” Bruce put a hundred dollar note on the table for the bill. “For what I owe you yesterday. I told you that I was going to pay you back.”

 

“But this is too much for one grilled cheese sandwich.” Clark was dumbfounded. He thought all this money could not possibly be the tips.

 

“The rest is tips.” Said Bruce with confidence and half authoritative voice, it was the same tone he usually used during the board meeting.

 

Bruce paid his bill by credit card while the credit card reader at the café decided to take a day off. It turned out that he did not have any cash with him, but he was happy to pay Clark by a cheque if Clark would accept it or call his butler to bring the cash to him within twenty minutes. Clark chose neither. He chose to say the sandwich was on him this time. Though Bruce thanked Clark for the sandwich, he insisted on paying Clark back tomorrow.  

 

“I cannot take it.” Clark tried to look for the way to put the hundred back into Bruce’s hand. Never once in his life that he had received as big tips at this time. Clark did not mean to be ungrateful about the tips but accepting the large sum of tips for his service made him feel uncomfortable.

 

“Tell me, Clark, do you believe in God?” The question seemed to be out of the blue and had nothing related to the present circumstance. So it took Clark almost a minute to answer.

 

“No, I don’t. I do only believe in doing good deeds.”

 

“You’re an interesting man, Clark.” An amused smile flashed across Bruce’s face.

 

“Wait, Bruce. How about you?”

 

“Neither.”

 

“Good day, Clark. I will wait for your call.” He waved goodbye and walked out.

 

Alfred was waiting for him in the car when he stepped out of the Country Road Café. Bruce opened the door and got into the car in one swift motion.

 

The car stopped at the red traffic light. Alfred relaxed his posture a little and turn to look at Bruce in the passenger seat. Bruce noticed the intense glare but he chose not to make any comment or inquiry. He basically fixed his attention on the phone in his hand, replying important business emails. “You know there are other simple ways to see someone you have a crush more often than asking him to be your business partner. Like asking him out for a date.” Alfred finally spoke to Bruce.

 

“I am not having a crush on him.” Bruce shook his head in denial. Why on God’s earth he would have a crush on Clark. Bruce tried to think about what could he possible like in Clark, a farm boy from Smallville with the black disheveled hair and mesmerizing blue eyes who wore the same jeans and red tartan shirt as he did yesterday. Clearly, he hadn’t gone home last night.    

 

“Certainly, you aren't.” Alfred spoke like he could read Bruce’s thought.

 

”I simply see the potential in him and his café.” Bruce stated his best riposte to convince his butler. However, his effort still was not enough to change Alfred’s mind.

 

“Whatever could make you sleep at night.” Sighed Alfred. The tight-lipped must run deeper in the Wayne bloodline than he had assumed.

 

“You could cancel the gala on next Thursday night. It isn't really essential to attend it anyway. You always hate the gala on the cruise anyway.”

 

“I am not interested in him. Not in that kind of way. Besides, he isn't even my type.” Bruce looked up from his phone to look into Alfred’s eyes.

 

“Nonsense. He’s exactly your type! 6’ 2”. Black hair. Ablaze blue eyes. Not too scrawny. Not too muscular. Fit as a bull. So please just do your old butler a favor and ask him out.” Alfred’s assertive voice pierced right on the spot where Bruce wished it did not. Once again, Bruce had to admit that his butler was right and had nailed every fact correctly.

 

“Fine. Cancel the gala for me.” Muttered Bruce with the voice of a perpetual child in grade 4.

 

Alfred had a victory smirk on his face, the kind of Alfred’s expression that could be seen only when Alfred won an argument with him. Also, the kind of smirk Bruce loathed next to Joker’s smirk. Sometimes, he could not tell whether he loved, hated or feared Alfred. But there’s one thing Bruce could tell, no one knew him better than Alfred did.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome!


End file.
